


Stay Out - Stay Alive

by Grimmy88



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Attempted Seduction, Blow Jobs, Claiming, Claiming Bites, Doggy Style, Dwight's friends are kinda dicks in this but they make good points, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Missionary Position, Rimming, Seduction, Size Difference, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29705967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmy88/pseuds/Grimmy88
Summary: For a request: Some Evanfield a/b/o inspired by the movie The Descent!"Dwight knew he shouldn’t have come along.The primary motivation behind it had been becoming friends with the people he admired and who had been kind enough to extend him an olive branch. Thing was, he admired them because they were so different than he was. And now he was starting to realize that had been a mistake."Wherein Dwight tries 'cave' exploring with Jake, Meg, and Claudette. Problem is the cave is actually a derelict mine. The bigger problem is its owner doesn't appreciate visitors. The biggest problem is when everyone's favorite omega gets stuck dangling over a gap with a dangerously patient alpha waiting for him on the other side.
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/Evan MacMillan | The Trapper
Comments: 26
Kudos: 134





	Stay Out - Stay Alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Serria_Foxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serria_Foxx/gifts).



Dwight knew he shouldn’t have come along.

The primary motivation behind it had been becoming friends with the people he admired and who had been kind enough to extend him an olive branch. Thing was, he admired them because they were _so_ different than he was. And now he was starting to realize that had been a mistake.

Jake was the first person he’d befriended and the most resourceful of his little group. He could be put out into the wild with a knife and shoelaces and somehow come back with a prize-winning buck slung over his shoulder. Meg was the most athletic. She could run a marathon with a smile and minimal sweat loss all while maintaining an ample lead. Claudette was the most intelligent. She was destined to become a professor of renown, the kind with thick textbooks attributed to their names and little cameos on science shows.

The former delivery boy was only these things in limited amounts.

He was only resourceful when it came to the workplace or more urban areas, and even that was only when he had no choice to be anything else. He was fairly active, but he preferred his bike to more strenuous exercises like running or weightlifting. (Which was very much why he’d never gotten rid of his tummy or ample bottom half.) And in truth, he _was_ smart, he just wasn’t anywhere near a doctoral level kind of smart.

His intelligence was based more in his cleverness and perception. But those seemed to be passive qualities—certainly not something he ever thought useful outside video games or a DnD session. More often than not it was useful in making him second guess himself because it meant that he almost _always_ picked up on when people didn’t want him around. It happened often enough, after all.

Especially when people weren’t very subtle or quiet about it.

He’d spotted Meg’s side eye when he’d stepped out from Jake’s jeep to join them. In his defense, he hadn’t wanted to go. Spelunking and traversing through cave systems wasn’t anything he’d ever done before or ever _considered_ doing before. It had helped when Jake had promised that Meg had chosen a tourist route, something so easy anyone could do it.

Dwight had been too worried to refuse a second time. If this was how active these people were, and he opted out of one of their simplest outings they might never ask him along for anything again. They certainly couldn’t do daring adventures _all_ the time, right? He wanted to be there for the mundane things like café runs or nights at the bar. But if he didn’t prove himself interesting enough, why bother to bring him along to those?

Well, at the moment he didn’t even know if they’d get a chance for any of those boring things. Right now, he wasn’t even sure he’d be alive to suffer another rejection.

Meg had lied about the cave system being tourist friendly. She had lied about it being a _cave system_. Dwight had picked up on the fact that they were walking through a defunct mine very quickly, instantly worried for the lack of masks and other gear. He’d calmed when the abandoned tunnels hadn’t been too grueling to traverse, reassuring himself that they might be less taxing than a normal cave system would have been for him.

Truthfully, the hardest thing they’d had to do was grapple over a gap that at one time must have had a small wooden bridge over it. Meg had been able to secure fasteners to the _rock ceiling_ for them to swing across on, and Dwight had been dumbstruck over the upper body and _hand_ strength needed for such a feat. Beyond that they had just walked and explored, and honestly, he had to wonder why they even bothered coming to such a place.

Well, until they said something about the tunnels being haunted.

They’d recounted reports online detailing unexplainable sounds and eerie lights by those traveling nearby. Only a few people had ventured in and most had turned away the moment they got any sign of something abnormal, let alone paranormal. It was rumored that some explorers had never come back.

Dwight wasn’t sure about ghosts, but in his mind disappearing people seemed like enough of a reason _not_ to explore a place.

And the echoing sounds and dim lights they’d caught glimpses of were even _more_ reason to turn tail. But they’d continued on, fortified by their number. And, needless to say, that faith had been severely misplaced.

Because the tunnels were _not_ haunted.

They were occupied.

Dwight had told them he’d thought he sounds he’d heard had been footsteps. He’d told them he’d thought the brief flashes of light he’d spied had been something other than their flashlights. His worries had apparently been driving Meg to her limits.

Currently, she and Jake were deep in discussion, analyzing a map and the choices they had for exploration. The omega had seen yet another bit of evidence that they weren’t alone, and he thought it a good time to bring it up.

He was wrong.

And Meg rounded on him to let him know it.

“ _Why_ did you bring him?” she asked Jake, her expression dismissive.

“Hey,” their leader tried to calm her. “He’s cool; it’s just his first time, alright? We’re all a little worked up our first time in a place like this.”

“Okay, I get that. But you could’ve told us we were going to be babysitting the whole time.”

Dwight swallowed, feeling the shame choke him silent.

“Meg,” Claudette chastised softly. “He’s just nervous.” Here she turned to their new member. “Down here things are going to echo and the dark is going to play a _lot_ of tricks on your eyes. It’s okay.”

“I know that,” Dwight stressed—and he did because Jake had explained it in depth to him on their drive. “What I’m telling you is: those echoes _aren’t_ only ours.”

“Dwight,” Meg sighed. She took another deep breath through her nostrils to calm herself. “I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but if you’re not used to this kind of thing maybe just trust the people who are?”

He clamped his jaw shut and looked to Jake, but even his friend seemed tired of reassuring him.

“I know it’s spooky your first time but she’s right. Trust us. We’ll be fine.”

Embarrassed and a little hurt, Dwight’s words failed him. All he could do was turn from them and focus on the way the flashlight affixed to his helmet illuminated the path from where they’d come.

There were more sounds they ignored as they went on—scuffed ones he knew they were attributing to their own feet. There were no more lights, and that was almost enough to convince him that he’d been wrong. _Almost_.

Because he _hadn’t_ been wrong, and it wasn’t long until they all found that out. Really, he should’ve felt smug, but that was startled right out of him alongside part of his soul.

It happened when Meg screamed. She’d taken a few steps down some side path without them only to halt suddenly, her voice ringing out to them in utter agony. Dwight and the others turned to her immediately, their headlamps revealing her muscled form doubled over onto one knee. Jake and Claudette jumped to action, but the former delivery boy was slower to move, shuffling around and only proving useful for the extra light he gave them.

Maybe it was for the best because what he saw made his body swing violently between vomiting or fainting.

Meg had worn sport leggings for their little adventure, probably one of the many pairs she owned. They ended at the top of her calves and because of that her friends were treated to the very visceral sight of the teeth of a bear trap penetrating her skin and muscle. The blood was instant, soaking down into her running shoe. Dwight stared in fixated horror at the jagged protrusions of metal and the way they seemed to disappear inside her leg. The beta had her hands on her friend’s shoulders, attempting to calm her as their leader pried the trap open long enough for the two girls to scramble out and away.

“Fuck! FUCK!” Meg screeched. On instinct she slapped her gloved palms to her leg to stem the blood flow.

Dwight couldn’t help but think that was a terrible idea with all the shit they’d touched, though maybe that didn’t matter once you’d stepped into a bear trap in some random, derelict mine.

Claudette was thinking something similar, because after she’d rummaged around in her pack to get the first aid kit, she was peeling the runner’s hands away by her wrists. “Stop! Let go! I have to clean it and wrap it!”

Meg practically snarled in answer. The sound transformed into a howl when the hydrogen peroxide was poured into and over her wounds. Dwight winced at its volume and intensity, instinctively glancing around in paranoid anxiety.

“Meg,” he begged, though he doubted she could hear him over her own suffering. “You’ve got to be quiet.”

“Meg!” Jake repeated, firmer. He dropped to a knee at her side and took one of her bloody hands. “Breathe and calm down. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Fuck you! Tell me how _you’d_ sound after getting caught in a bear trap!” She did squeeze his hand to help manage the pain, though. “What’s something like that even doing down here?!”

The outdoorsman turned his helmet and its beam back on the blood-soaked contraption. Dwight didn’t think staring at it could provide them with any answers, but Jake’s insightfulness didn’t seem to agree.

“I don’t know, but it’s not old,” he announced. “It would be rusted if it had been sitting here for years.”

The omega felt his hackles raise. All at once it was like every sound he’d heard, every ‘trick’ of his eyes was replaying in his mind. Chilled, he discovered the light he was casting into the darkness was shaking due to the tremble that had worked its way through him.

“Ow! You think you can get that any tighter?!”

“It’s gotta be tight,” Claudette huffed.

The pain was inspiring the athlete to be contradictory, and any other time Dwight wouldn’t have blamed her, but right now he certainly did.

“Guys!” he hissed. “Be quiet!”

“We don’t need your input!”

“He’d better not be telling _me_ to be quiet!”

“If it’s not old that means there’s someone here!” Dwight snapped, fed up.

“Everybody calm down!” Jake ordered. “Dwight—just because it isn’t old doesn’t mean someone’s here! This could’ve been put here weeks or months ago to catch an animal or something!” He turned to the girls. “And screaming isn’t going to help us right now!”

Frustrated, the former delivery boy put a hand to the side of his helmet since he couldn’t bury it in his hair.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, because we’re getting out of here.” Statement made, he moved into a squat so he could hook one of Meg’s arms over his shoulders and help her to stand.

Dwight turned to look at them, stepping aside as he took the first steps with her. And then his beam caught something some feet behind them in the direction they had been traversing. At first his mind blanked and he couldn’t tell what it was, but then everything clicked into place, giving his brain a new reason to stop working.

There was a _massive_ man standing in the shadows, head tilted as if intrigued by the sight of them.

But the omega doubted this person’s curiosity was anything but innocent considering the machete in his hands and the absolutely horrifying mask hiding his face.

Dwight stumbled backwards, cursing as he went down with a painful thud onto his ass.

The others made confused sounds at his display, but both Claudette and Jake turned their heads to see what had startled him so badly. And vindicated as he was when they _finally_ saw that he’d been right, a part of him now desperately wished he hadn’t been.

They only spent a heartbeat looking at him, yet it was enough time to conflate his giant shoulders and arms and torso and thighs with that of a predator. The upper half of him was almost bare, save for where his overalls were clasped over his shoulders. His skin was lined with ominous scars that somehow shimmered in the bright light of their headlamps.

But of course, the two most horrifying parts of him were the ones Dwight had noticed earlier: his weapon and his mask.

It was the latter that had frightened Dwight off his feet. It looked hand-made, with two tiny holes for his eyes. Because of their size they looked completely black and almost doll-like from a distance. Its scariest feature was its mouth. For some reason, this man had carved it into a sadistic, Cheshire grin lined with animalistic teeth filed to points.

Dwight doubted he really had to guess what that reason had been.

It was the mask that got Claudette screaming. It was the giant step the strange figure took towards them that got them all running. The others had a lead on him because of his fall, but because Jake was hampered by Meg’s weight it wasn’t difficult to catch up.

“I told you!” he rasped, trying to maintain his breathing with the way his heart was trying to claw out of his throat as if it could run faster than his legs were.

“Save it for when we get out!” Jake shot back.

Claudette was leading them and though the path they’d taken had been more or less linear, the omega was glad for her sense in a moment where he felt many people might have been led astray by their adrenaline. Though it felt like forever, he doubted it had taken them long to retrace their path back to the chasm they’d crossed earlier.

“Fucking shit!” Meg shouted, as if she had forgotten all the work she’d done earlier. With the pain she had to be in maybe that was the case.

Jake propped her against the nearest wall so that he could grab the omega and begin tightening the hook on his harness onto the rope they’d left for their return.

“Me?!” He felt his brows twist in worry. “Why am I going first?!”

“Because I need someone who can support Meg’s weight when she gets to the other side! You first, then Meg, then Claudette and I’ll catch up with you guys!”

“He’s gonna catch up to us by then!” Claudette argued, voice thin with worry even if she was still logical.

Jake finished fastening him onto the line, taking his hand to lower him as fast as he could until the office worker was dangling over the dark gap. Dwight flailed to get his hands on the line, beginning to pull with one over the other, not unlike a rudimentary pulley system, to get himself to safety. He thought he was doing it pretty quickly, but he did have to slow down once he got to the opposite side. He could hear his friends fastening Meg in place to follow, but he had to focus on himself and turning as much as the rope would allow so he could plant his shoes on the rugged wall to anchor his body. Only then would he be able to pull himself up.

He’d just gotten a good grip when his attention was drawn back by a barking chorus of his name.

“I’m going!” he called.

“No! Dwight! Come back! DWIGHT!”

It was natural that he looked up, though he wished he hadn’t when he saw that white mask staring down at him, illuminated as it was by four different headlamps. He felt cold dread burrow into him, heavy and so disassociating that it was a wonder that he didn’t immediately lose his grip. Maybe it was because he found himself incapable of movement, paralyzed as he was by fright and the mental image of that machete cleaving right through the helmet meant to protect his skull.

“Dwight!”

“Come back!”

But it was too late. The man squatted down and with one swipe of his weapon, sliced the rope right behind the omega, stranding him. If he slipped now there would be nothing to catch him from disappearing into the chasm. That put a tremble into his limbs.

“I’m coming!” Jake screamed.

But the shadow looming over him, peering down at his struggle was closer. Would he let the smaller man fall? Would he actually use that intimidating weapon to speed things up? If he was fast enough to beat them here he’d be able to swing his arm with as much quick force that it’d be over before Dwight could even realize.

“It’s too late!” Meg yelled. “We gotta go!”

“Don’t leave me!” Dwight wheezed, though he was too worried about losing his grip to raise his voice loud enough for them to hear.

“Go _where_?!”

“If he got around us there’s gotta be another way back to the exit!” Claudette told them, voice filled with both terror and hope.

“Let’s go!” Meg snapped.

Dwight couldn’t watch them go, but he could hear their uneven footfalls as they shuffled away. Maybe Jake was remorseful and spared one last look back. Maybe he didn’t.

It wouldn’t have changed the fact that they left him, dangling at the mercy of a crazed man in a mask.

In his panic his mind couldn’t recognize that there’d been no way to save him. He could only think about the hurt that was clenching inside his chest and the betrayal sitting heavy across the back of his neck. …And then the depressing acceptance that stung his eyes.

He’d been abandoned plenty of times throughout his life, he’d just never expected it to be in such an extreme sense.

And in that brief moment of immense mental and emotional torture, he wondered if it wouldn’t be better for him to just let go of the wall.

Whatever end that split-second thought would’ve provided, the decision was taken from him when giant hands twisted in the back of the harness he’d worn for the adventure and _lifted_. The man pulled Dwight up like he wasn’t a grown adult. He didn’t even grunt, just exhaled and inhaled as deeply as he had since this whole thing began behind the material of his face covering.

Dwight stared at it, horrified at its new proximity and the terrible shadows the flashlight atop his helmet etched upon it. He was so distracted he barely felt when his feet were lowered onto solid ground or when the two hands on him became one.

It was the reclamation of the machete from a nearby rocky ledge that brought Dwight back to the situation.

He brought up his arms to shield himself. “No! Please! I’m sorry—we didn’t know anybody was here!”

The man wrenched him close, and the omega stumbled at the force of it, head falling back so he could watch the mask come closer.

He could see brown eyes behind it now, a stern mouth, and tan, scarred skin. He could _hear_ the man behind it, the slight growl to his breath and the subtle scenting he was doing. And he could _smell_ the man, and it was no surprise how dominant his alpha pheromones were.

And somehow, despite these things, he was foolish enough to try begging again: “Please. I’ll leave! I _want_ to leave! I didn’t want to come here and chase ghosts or dangle over bottomless pits!”

The bald head tilted. When it straightened so too did its owner’s posture. In one smooth motion he sheathed his machete into its holder at his hip so that he could scoop up a nearby rock. He held this for a moment to make sure the smaller man’s eyes were on him and then he simply tossed it down into the chasm.

Where, after a second, it made that _plunking_ sound rocks did whenever they fell into a body of water.

If Dwight had let himself go, he would’ve been swimming. Maybe he would have been stuck, but he wouldn’t have been at the mercy of some masked alpha. He found his head turning to stare down at where the rock had disappeared into the deceptive shadows. Why, with all his knowledge hadn’t Jake tried that simple test?

The hand on him pulled again, dragging him away from the sight of his folly. He fumbled for a few steps before he anchored his heels down. “No! I’ll—”

What he’d do seemed of little interest to the crazy man stalking a derelict mine, however. He had no patience for the words or the struggle—he simply turned back, lowered his shoulder, and hefted Dwight right onto it.

Once again stupefied by the sheer strength on display, the former delivery boy gawked as the gray walls passed them by. It was only after they made it embarrassingly far, after they’d turned down one of the side passages _away_ from the boarded-up entrance, that Dwight began to struggle. Unfortunately, even that did little to deter the alpha, let alone slow him down.

He tried using the leverage of the powerful muscles beneath him to work his way free but the most he accomplished was wrenching that white mask from his captor’s face. If they had been in a movie such an action might’ve sparked some sort of rage or similar reaction, but as surreal and fiction-like this moment felt, the man beneath him just made a sound that was both annoyed _and_ amused.

Dwight didn’t know how far he was carried. Nor did he know how long it took. Everything was either shadow or gray stone and when that finally changed, he couldn’t say it was for the better. This direction was at least towards a light, different from the ones he’d spied earlier in that this wasn’t some sort of flare—this was a constant glow. When they neared it, Dwight saw that it was one of those portable work lights, the kind that had little cages around the bulb to protect it. It was hanging from a hook one the wall with an extension cord that trailed upwards along a vertical shaft.

Its placement was strategic because directly below it was a panel with an elevator call button.

Dwight blinked from where he’d twisted his body as one thick finger pressed it to open the doors.

It was a shoddy cube that they stepped into, with the sides open much like a cage. It was rudimentary and old, but it croaked to life and lifted them upwards…even if it was a bit of a bumpy ride.

“Where are you taking me?” Dwight asked, dredging up the remnants of his courage to do so.

Of course, he didn’t receive an answer. Well, not a verbal one anyway. He _was_ shucked right off that big shoulder. He managed to swing his feet around in time, though his legs buckled right under him and sent him plopping down onto his ass in one of the elevator’s corners. He quickly pulled them to his chest. Only when he was as small as he could make himself did he look up.

The beam on his head caught the man in his dark eyes, forcing them to dilate almost completely brown. Perhaps this irked him because he knelt down, hand outstretched as if to do something about it. Dwight flinched away instinctively, turning to the side and hiding his face against his kneecaps. His captor hooked his fingers into the fold of the knee closest and pulled him right back, though.

The omega expected the rough, powerful fingers to rip the helmet right off his head, not to take their time unbuckling the clasps beneath his chin to remove it the normal way. It was set aside, light aimed at one of the walls. Even without it, the man’s face was visible because of the swinging work light above them. With every back and forth it highlighted a new angle on the severe face staring at him.

Dwight could tell he’d been wickedly handsome once; he could see it in the shape of his face and eyes. He didn’t know how old he was, but it was clear life hadn’t been kind or easy on him. The small, silvery scars lining his skin attested to that.

Those dark eyes squinted at him. Then one of the big hands was lifted, palm-up in front of his face.

The omega stared at it dumbly and lifted his own hand.

The alpha’s brow wrinkled. He pointed at the mask that was still clenched within his captive’s grip.

Dwight winced in humiliation. Had he really been about to take his murderer’s hand? He jerked away to grip the mask with both his palms instead. Stupid as he felt, he wasn’t going to let the giant man hide away under his covering again. And if he was going to die, he was going to make sure that terrifying grin was _not_ the last thing he ever saw.

But that’s what was going to happen, wasn’t it? Why else would a man be running around in dark, abandoned mines with a weapon and a mask? Why would he leave terrifying traps? And above all else why was he dragging it out? Quite literally, since he took one of Dwight’s arms to drag him along. Part of the omega was grateful for not being humiliated again, the other, smarter part of him realized there was an additional benefit to it. Slow and groggy as his brain felt, he recognized immediately that it might be a good idea to count his steps from the elevator so he could find his way back if he got the chance to escape.

It was difficult to do that and try to identify any other physical indicators that would help him given the opportunity. Even if he did get away, this was likely a man who’d been living in the mines for… months? Years? It was almost assured he’d be able to catch up to the omega again in no time. But what else could Dwight do?

Roll over and show his belly?

There was another work light up ahead and then another and another, each connected by an extension cord hanging along the wall. It felt as though the pair was going up an incline, though it didn’t seem to tire the big alpha as much as his captive. At one point their trajectory finally turned right. Dwight stole a glance in the direction from where they’d turned, glimpsing what appeared to be a white glow. His heart leapt at the idea that it might’ve been daylight and that stuttered his steps yet again. Unfortunately, his misstep was so sudden and halting against the far more powerful momentum of the other man that he immediately lost his balance.

Even more unfortunate was that he tripped right into the mine-dweller’s side.

He jerked upright quickly so the mask wasn’t anywhere within his captor’s range and frowned upwards, not sure what to expect. Something from the defiant motion must have shown on his face because—unless the shadows were playing a trick on his eyes—the giant looked _amused_.

Dwight hated the shock he could feel overlaid on his face. Insolently, he jerked his nose in the other direction. “Is that the way out? All you have to do is let me go—I won’t tell anyone about you or what happened.” As if anyone would even believe him.

It was a pointless plea, though, and he’d known even before making it. There’d just been that momentary softness to those firm features that had made him think to try. Therefore, when he was hefted up under one huge bicep, he wasn’t surprised.

Or, rather, he wasn’t surprised he hadn’t been let go. He was _very_ surprised at the new position. Being lifted with two arms or slung over a shoulder were comprehensible, but being picked up like he weighed the same amount as a sack of spuds was a different sort of strength entirely.

He hated that he was both mortified _and_ enthralled by it.

The path he was carried down was lit by more hanging lights, at the end of which he spied a door. It was made of metal, though it did not look as old as any of the material he’d seen already in the system. When the alpha turned the handle to go inside, it didn’t even squeak on its hinges.

It did sound deafening when it shut behind them and was barred into place, though maybe that was only to Dwight’s ears.

He wondered if it was what a coffin sounded like.

For a moment it was completely black, but then the alpha shifted, and a dull thrum went through the room before it was filled with light. Not a heartbeat later, Dwight was dumped brusquely onto something soft.

Soft and practically drenched in his kidnapper’s pheromones.

The younger man recoiled immediately, overwhelmed. He was so desperate to cover his mouth and nose that he dropped the mask somewhere among the blankets and sheets. He wasn’t even stopped when he got his feet onto the floor and launched at the door. He got his hands on the metal bar that had locked them in place, but no matter what he tried—using his shoulders, back, thighs, every muscle he had in tandem—he could not lift it.

And the exertion had made him suck even more of the smell into his lungs and blood and brain.

The problem wasn’t that this man smelled like rocks and caves and charcoal and metal and musky sweat. It was that apparently Dwight _liked_ those scents. He liked the musky one, most of all.

And it wasn’t fair at all that his stupid, instinct-led brain thought his soon-to-be murderer smelled nice.

Trapped and overcome, Dwight put his hands over the bottom half of his face and pressed his back flat against the door. The trapper had turned his own back on him, busying himself at a wooden desk along the left wall of the room. He seemed preoccupied with the random papers scattered atop it.

It gave the omega the chance to look around for an alternate way out, though it became immediately clear that there was none. The room in which they stood was contained, chiseled out of the mine itself probably and lined with decorative walls. On them the alpha had hung more papers, each of which had drawings. Some were sketches, others half-formed, and the ones that were finished were unexpectedly _good_.

Other than that, the area was spacious but generic. At one point it might have been some sort of storage area, if the scratches on the wooden floor were any indication of shelving being dragged out at some point. In their place the alpha had supplanted the wooden desk against one wall and a cot against the other. In one corner was a haphazard pile of tools and other supplies. In the other were some buckets.

Dwight considered all of this and thought about a dorm or hotel room—somewhere to sleep but not permanent.

When he looked to the pictures again, he was suddenly certain that he was brought here so that his dead body could provide some sort of morbid inspiration for the man’s next work. He cringed at the thought, suddenly filled with grief for all the faces staring at him.

It froze into fear when the alpha looked over his shoulder at him.

Try as he might, he could _not_ get his body to melt through the metal.

His captor turned and took a step towards him.

“Don’t,” Dwight tried to order. “Stay there. Don’t.”

The big man did.

The former delivery boy felt his knees start to tremble, the adrenaline and terror and panic rushing through him with every rapid heartbeat. “…Why’d you bring me here? Are you gonna kill me and draw it?! Is that what you do?!”

The trapper spared a glance at the artwork adorning the walls. When he looked back at the failed explorer, he had that same bemused look from earlier.

“Stop it!” Dwight all but screamed. “Can you talk?! Just answer me already! I can’t—!” He put one of his hands over his glasses, trembling so hard he upset their placement on his head. It made him feel pathetic. Useless. Weak. It made him feel all the reasons his friends had left him behind.

He sunk into that feeling the same way he sunk to the floor. As if it would protect him, he drew his legs to his chest and buried his face in his knees so that he could cover his head with his arms.

And when the pads of big fingers touched the still-visible parts of his hair, he jerked so hard to the side he slammed his shoulder into the door. Not that it mattered, because the creak of leather indicated that the giant was crouching down to get a closer look at him. And then the tips of his fingers were back at his hair.

“I won’t kill you, omega.”

Dwight stiffened and peeked out from between his forearms, noting how his glasses were askew upon the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want to come completely out of the cage he’d made to fix them, though. So, he just stared with one eye focused and the other blurry up at the hunter and marveled at the depth of his voice.

It was fitting.

“You won’t? …You’ll let me go?”

The alpha’s eyes narrowed, and he reached out to hook his hands under the smaller man’s knees so that he could pull him along the floor and away from the door. Then he was standing upright again, retrieving his mask from the bed, and lifting the giant slab bar from the door without so much as a grunt of exertion. When he stepped through the doorway, he carried it with him.

Dwight unfurled and got to his knees, wondering if he was fast enough to slip between the man’s legs and sprint away. He knew he wasn’t, though, and so he stared helplessly up.

“Stay.”

The command made it harder for him to spring to his feet. Stupidly, he put one hand on the frame and the other on the closing door as if he could match the bigger man’s strength. “Wait!”

The alpha looked both astounded and impressed that the younger man had had the ability to speak out in the face of his order. Then his brow drooped, and it looked like he was about to reprimand him.

But Dwight—stupid, foolish Dwight who was afraid of being left alone in this room more than he was of this man thanks to his awful omega instincts—had to know one thing.

Even if in the back of his mind he knew it was asinine to care.

“Where are you going?! Are you—are you gonna hurt my friends?”

His captor tilted his head.

“Please,” Dwight begged. “One of them is hurt—you can let them go. They already… they think I’m dead. They won’t bother you!”

The alpha regarded him for a second and then grunted in disdain. When he pulled the door again, the omega stumbled back out of the way and let it close. The bar settled into place on the opposite side, ensuring that he couldn’t possibly escape.

At least the lights had been left on.

And that certainly helped curtail _some_ of his anxiety because he was left alone for hours according to his watch. He spent a good portion of it trying to find a way out… and when that wasn’t feasible, a hiding spot that was anything but the space under the bed. Unfortunately, there _was_ nowhere else to go. There wasn’t even a closet in the small space, which attested to the fact that it had never been _meant_ to house a bed.

During his search, and because he had nothing else to do, Dwight analyzed the drawings that had startled him with their skill and beauty. They ran the gamut of ages, genders, and races. Some were attractive people, more were ordinary, and each pose and expression were different. The omega wasn’t sure what he was observing. Had they really been the masked man’s victims as he feared? Were they people he’d known in an earlier life? Were they just creations of his mind?

On the desk there were scraps and crumpled balls. Underneath them were more industrious things, including a map of the mines and its inner workings. The elevator plans were there, too, but Dwight couldn’t make sense out of the directions in reference to where he currently was. It seemed like there were plenty of little side rooms. There were ones near plenty of different exits, but that just meant he could have been in any of them and if he took the wrong turn he’d only go deeper into the darkness.

Pouting a bit over that, he decided to unfurl one of the balls, immediately blanching at what he saw. It a self-portrait of the man, only not as Dwight had seen him. It was the man years ago. He looked vastly different and yet, some of his features were unmistakable. He had the same dark eyes, the same broad nose, the same solid jawline. The same plump bottom lip. The differences were obvious, too: his hair, his strong brows, his youthfulness. His size. He looked to have been a fit, strong figure in his youth, but now… now he was massive, with his muscles bulging his already big frame.

The other drawings seemed to be age progressions. The more recent ones were little more than sketches that had apparently angered the alpha enough for him to slash solid lines through them _before_ they were discarded.

It was one of the more finished ones he put into a vest pocket. If he _did_ make it out, the authorities would need it.

After that there wasn’t much else for him to do but ditch the harness around his waist and consider the door. He wouldn’t be able to hide behind it and then dash around to make his exit once his captor returned. His agility was nowhere near good enough for that. If he hid to the other side, he’d be spotted immediately.

So, as faulty a plan as it was, if he crawled underneath the bed, maybe he’d get the element of surprise. If the alpha thought he’d escaped somehow maybe he could rush out after the door was left open.

Naturally, that wasn’t what happened.

Horror movies always made their antagonists look stupid, but Dwight was finding that this man was anything but. When he returned those hours later, he opened the door and immediately stepped inside, dragging a sack behind him. There was a beat, but only one, before he was sealing off the exit with that giant metal bar again. The hidden man wasn’t surprised, though he did feel suddenly overcome with grief.

And then incensed fear when thick fingers curled around the back of his knee to pull him out from his covering.

“No!” he snapped petulantly, thrashing his leg enough to dislodge the grip momentarily. The next was harder to shake off, though, and he was pulled out by both his leg and elbow until he was staring up once again at that mask. His frustration seemed to be winning out now, because he reached up to yank it off that broad face.

The alpha tilted out of his reach while taking ahold of his forearms so they would be forced to stand together.

Dwight tried to wrench his wrists free but the grip on him tightened just shy of painful.

“Stop, omega,” the giant growled.

Shamefully, he did. He turned his face away and cast his eyes down, noting the shade of the alpha’s arms. He could see the tan color of his skin now, meaning at some point during his absence he’d cleaned away all the dirt and soot and grime. But why?

…Had he needed to clean away the blood of Dwight’s friends from his hands and arms?

His gaze fell on the sack next, and he shuddered at its misshapen form. The fight left him then, misery and dread reweaving along his spine.

His knees buckled, but his captor did not release him, and so he had no place to go but into that muscular chest. The alpha relented his hold on his arms because of the odd positioning, opting to lope one of his own around Dwight’s back to keep him from falling. It felt like a human gesture and thus odd coming from a murderer.

The omega bucked his weight back and was released so that he could plop down onto the mattress behind him.

Despondently, he pushed his glasses to the top of his head so he could swipe under his leaking eyes. “Did you kill them?” He put his palms against the sockets, shoulders trembling when he saw his abductor drag it close. He heard the leather of his coveralls creak as he went down to a knee so he could open it.

Dwight didn’t look. His stomach was churning at the idea of his friends being dead, but if that bag was opened and parts of their bodies upended in front of him, he knew he’d lose what little grip he had left on his sanity.

A heavy palm settled over his thigh and he shook beneath it. Then something cold skimmed his elbow, the thin material of the base layer he’d warn underneath his vest to keep his body heat doing nothing to block it. He yanked away, but his eyes opened on instinct.

And from there he couldn’t help but look to the bag… to find that there was nothing nefarious about it. Inside it, from what he could see, were supplies—boxes and bottles and cans.

The coldness at his elbow had been a bottle of water.

Dwight stared at it. Then he stared into the eye holes of the mask.

The alpha moved first, taking his hand from the leg he’d set it upon so he could strip off the mask. He made to discard it on the bed but at the last second turned to offer it to the failed explorer.

Dumbfounded, Dwight took it.

With his face free, the big man uncapped the bottle and drank from it, dark eyes holding steady as he demonstrated. The omega knew how to drink from a water bottle and was about to say as much when he realized that the other man had taken his confusion as hesitance. For a second, Dwight did feel foolish for not, at least, considering poison.

Shamefully, his confusion had been because his initial feeling had been gratitude.

His mouth and throat were so dry he snatched the bottle away so that he could pour the contents in his mouth, not caring that his lips were touching where the big man’s had two seconds ago. His captor watched him drain it, amusement in his brow as the omega finished and crinkled the weak plastic in his fist. He took it from him to toss it towards the bin in the corner so he could replace it with another.

Dwight took it and sucked down half of that too, eyes on the open bag and all the different colored packaging inside. When he stopped to catch his breath, he noticed the large hand resting on his thigh. He squirmed under it and distracted himself by nodding at the bag.

“…Is that for me?”

The man nodded.

“You’re really not gonna kill me?”

A shake this time.

“I don’t understand.”

His trapper released him so he could turn and offer up one of the packages—a bag of chips. “Eat, omega.”

Compelled as he was by the command, Dwight still found the fortitude to shake his head. “I want to leave.”

The alpha frowned and turned back to the bag to dig something else out. This time it was a box of cookies. He even opened it.

Dwight squeezed the mask in his hand, trying to gauge the sight before him. These were new foodstuffs that he couldn’t have tampered with since they’d been sealed. He’d also promised not to kill the younger man, and absurd as their circumstances, that no longer seemed so far-fetched. Dwight wasn’t sure why it was so impertinent that he eat—no matter that he _was_ hungry—but maybe if he obliged the alpha would be more willing to answer him.

He reached his free hand in and took out one of the cookies, one of the kinds lined with chocolate, and bit it in half. It was good so he ate the other half and took another, somehow maintaining eye contact as he did.

Swallowing the food felt as though he were swallowing down his questions, bubbling up as they were. The taciturn man hadn’t seemed keen on providing him with much more than short sentences and commands, but what else could he do while they were sat so close. It seemed even more important to question him when he set the cookies aside Dwight’s leg so he could touch his thigh again.

The omega stared at it, half-intimidated by how much of his limb the hand covered. The other half was focused on how warm it was.

His captor reached his other hand out to touch his fingers against the material of Dwight’s leggings.

The smaller man jerked, face flaring and lungs seizing. “What—why are you keeping me here?” He didn’t receive an answer, only two fingers tracking the pattern of his hems. “Why won’t you talk?”

His captor’s eyes were leading his fingers, seemingly analyzing the fit of his leggings. He could feel the weight of their dark color flit to his groin. Then they followed the curve of him to the side, looking to the shape of his hips and the malleable way his thighs and butt molded against the mattress.

Dwight felt every part of his body tighten. _Every_ part.

“No!” he wheezed, partly at himself.

Surprisingly, the giant took his hands away at the mild outburst. He shifted from his knees, changing positions so that he was crouched on his haunches. His thighs were supporting him and although his coveralls were relatively baggy, in this position the material tightened over them to display how their girth matched the rest of his body. It was somehow alluring and powerful, and Dwight felt ashamed for looking.

Just as he felt ashamed for the squirming in his belly when the older man’s nostrils flared to scent him again because it was his instinct to mimic the action.

He put his hands back over his eyes. “I need to leave. Please.”

He could hear the alpha rummage again inside the bag, but while he was distracted Dwight turned away so that he faced the back wall. He pulled his legs up so he could put even a little bit of distance between them. He did not look up when the bed sagged behind him, though he had to readjust his weight so he wouldn’t slip back against the heavy body.

He was waiting for one of those hands to settle upon him again, but this expectation was subverted by the sound of crunching instead. Dwight was able to hold out against his curiosity for a few seconds before he lowered his hands, and glasses, so that when he peeked over his shoulder, he could see the other man.

Apparently, he hadn’t been the only hungry one, because the alpha was working his way through one of the boxes of crackers.

Maybe he should’ve found it odd, to see someone he’d thought of as a murderer shoveling snack foods into his mouth, but it was as if the last ten minutes had changed everything he’d incorrectly thought about this day. It probably helped that he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be killed anytime soon.

Dwight watched for a moment and then recovered the water bottle and mask from where he dropped them so he could drink from the former. He couldn’t explain the latter.

The alpha seemed content to let him sit there and sip. In fact, the only time he made a move towards him was when he reached around him for the cookies so he could eat some of those, too. It made the former delivery boy wonder how much he _could_ eat.

For long moments they sat like that, though eventually Dwight turned and lowered his legs back over the side of the bed. The trapper was sitting in the middle of it, so the omega was forced near the pillows lest their legs touch. Considerately, the other man did not force any sort of proximity. He simply watched Dwight out of his peripheral now and again.

The failed explorer looked at the items in his hands and decided to deposit the mask onto his thighs so he could eat another cookie. He wasn’t brave enough to reach out for any of the other snacks.

The mask stared up at him as he chewed, making him wonder.

“…Do you wear this to scare people away? You…don’t actually kill people, do you?”

The room’s other occupant munched louder.

“Why do you live here?”

The bald head shook.

“You _don’t_?” Dwight asked.

He nodded.

The younger man looked back to his lap, flustered. It was obvious that this man was unused to having company, let alone holding conversations. He must have been on his own for years and it was doubtful Dwight would ever find out why. Maybe that was the reason he was keeping him around. It was a naïve thought, but the office-worker couldn’t fathom a world where his other suspicion could possibly be correct.

Dwight peeked over at him, watching the way his jaw worked. Every movement made the light of the room reflect off his silvery scars. It was almost pretty, and yet somehow sad. Some were small, others long, and the omega wondered how he got them. He wondered if he’d ever had anybody wonder about him before.

And foolishly he sympathized with that.

They ate and drank in silence after that, Dwight wondering many things that he didn’t dare ask. He let the giant offer him different boxes, taking a sample from each. He’d never been a picky eater, but the alpha didn’t know that and so seemed pleased to have his offerings taken. When they were finished the giant cleaned up and tucked the bag in the corner of the room so that the area was tidied. It seemed odd considering they were in a dirty, old mine anyway.

Though not as odd as the thick body dropping down directly next to him, its owner purposefully ignoring the rest of the free space.

With nowhere to go, Dwight slipped down the little incline made by the older man’s weight. He only stopped when the outside of their thighs touched, and even then, it was taking every muscle in his core to prevent his arm and shoulder from doing the same. It wasn’t a burn he particularly enjoyed, which was obvious to anybody that saw him shirtless. Even so, he was grateful to be shaking from something other than his nerves.

At least for a little bit, because eventually his stamina gave out and before he realized it his side was almost completely resting against the giant’s. That bald head turned to regard their closeness and then what he could of the smaller man’s profile. Dwight kept his eyes on his lap.

The alpha wanted that attention because he folded his closest hand around the delivery boy’s thigh. Instinctively, the younger man slapped his hand over the back of it and curled his fingers, fully intent on prying it loose. He didn’t quite expect his captor to flip his palm effortlessly to tangle their fingers together, though.

He added his other hand in the inspection, stripping away Dwight’s borrowed climbing gloves so that his view was unimpeded. Not that there was much to see—the material had saved him from tearing his skin open on the rocks when he’d been clinging in a case of what he’d thought had been life and death earlier. There was a chance he’d have bruises later, but at the moment he couldn’t tell—not when callused fingertips were tracing over all the lines and wrinkles of his palm.

Somehow, despite his size and roughness, it tickled.

Dwight let out the tiniest of huffs fueled by nerves and anxiety. He curled his fingers in to stop the barely-there touch. Patiently, the big man unfurled them so he could keep exploring. After he was done following the lines he decided to feel over the pads of his palm before slipping the tickle up each and every one of his fingers.

And while Dwight sat transfixed, his hand was brought to that stern face so that the trapper could press his nose against the comparatively small wrist. He took his time inhaling and exhaling there, nose pivoting against soft skin and veins alike.

His bottom lip followed, like an afterthought. Like he didn’t know what to do with it other than what he wanted. And what he wanted was to have it pressed against the omega.

Dwight was baffled by the gentle motion, something he would’ve expected to be completely foreign to the man beside him. There was such a power coursing through him that it was palpable through their proximity, and yet somehow, he was able to refine it in order to survey the smaller man’s hand and wrist and down the tight fabric covering his arm. Though, maybe it wasn’t the material he found fascinating.

It was hard to say how that could be considering that physically the omega was nothing remarkable. Most people considered him average—or at least he hoped they did—and his only defining feature was the slight swell and strength in his upper thighs and ass. He had his biking to thank for that—but to be touched like this—naturally, his disbelief was so staggering he was paralyzed by it.

That allowed the other man time to squeeze his bicep and then the swell of his shoulder. He seemed to consider the give of them before moving to lay his entire palm over the latter so that the side of his little finger was snuggled right up against Dwight’s neck. It tracked upward, leaving a tingling path in its wake. Right before it could get to his jawline, the former delivery boy turned away.

This caused the mask on his legs to fall, disrupting the quiet space with a mild clatter.

The hand dropped away and there were several beats where its owner must have been considering the back turned on him. Dwight fiddled with his fingers in the meantime, subconsciously following the pattern traced against them while his mind worked overtime to understand why he was sitting there trembling in bashfulness rather than abject terror. He’d have to be really stupid not to recognize that the alpha’s pheromones were one of the reasons. On the same note, he knew his own scent was spurring the giant’s actions.

As an omega, Dwight had been propositioned before by a few drunk alphas here and there. Never once had he felt the impulse to go with them, let alone _submit_ to them, though. He’d only felt repulsed.

That was what he should have been feeling right now, with some huge, possibly murderous man sitting behind him.

But he didn’t.

He just thought on the amused looks, the offerings of food, and even now the slow administrations and how much he liked the attention.

_Attention from the man who might have killed your friends._

But _might have_ were the key words there, weren’t they? Could he have hunted them down in the time he was gone? Would he have come back, washed and with provisions _after_ slaughtering some innocent people just to seduce the only survivor?

Dwight didn’t want to believe so.

Not with how solid and reassuring the renewed touch on his back felt.

He wasn’t able to feel enough of it, not with his vest in the way. The alpha noted the obstacle, too, but he shifted his weight for now so that both his arms were free for his exploration. As on the opposite side he trailed it down Dwight’s arm, following the curve of his elbow around front where the omega had locked his fingers together.

Fully encased by the other man, the office worker allowed his hands to be coaxed apart, opening himself up so that the alpha could pull the zipper of his vest down. Then it was easy enough for him to shuck it away alongside the discarded mask.

Unimpeded, the trapper redirected his attention back to the curve of Dwight’s back, massaging against the thin material covering it. It felt good and despite himself, the smaller man felt his muscles loosening.

At least, until that nose pressed into his hair to sniff him again. Then he was tightening all anew in anticipation.

The alpha grumbled a little, denoting his enjoyment, a sound deposited right into Dwight’s ear. It vibrated throughout his brain before shooting down his neck and spine. It made him feel weak and his body drooped back until he was partly propped up by the muscular chest behind him.

The other man took it as the invitation Dwight couldn’t label it. His massaging slid outward, following the shape of his partner’s ribcage so he could enfold him again. One hand remained above Dwight’s solar plexus, anchoring him, while the other snaked upwards to wrap around the omega’s throat.

He gasped and instinctively reached up to grab at the bigger man’s wrist, dumbly holding onto it when he found the touch gentle and directory. It tilted his head upward and back, displaying more of his jaw and neck for smelling. And every now and then those lips would brush him…

When they settled in more firmly, first at his cheekbone and then down towards his jaw and underneath, Dwight’s eyes flickered closed. Unwittingly, his mouth fell open, enticing those proficient fingers to circle his lips. To test the pad of his forefinger against the swell of the bottom one.

Dwight kept his eyes firmly shut, unable to even look at the wall as his tongue slipped out against the touch. And when he, shyly, withdrew it, the thick digit followed it. The alpha hummed his approval of that, as well, and pressed his own mouth firmer at the tendon below it. When he dragged his hand down this time, Dwight could feel the dampness from his own saliva until the sheer fabric of his exercise gear blocked it again.

The alpha caressed him through the material for a few moments, light and circular to learn the shape of him. Every pass over his stomach and ribs and pectorals sent shivers through Dwight’s body. They overrode him and he sought to keep it that way, extending his chest outward so that what he could feel the calluses teased over his hardening nipples.

They sought downwards, too, and the omega had the thought to be disappointed until they touched at his lower abdomen. And then his hips. And then in between.

Dwight gasped loudly and threw his head back so hard he was momentarily dizzied.

The trapper gave a gentle squeeze and then another and the smaller man felt his thighs spreading, even if minutely, to let him.

And then the attention stopped, moved away so that the alpha could hook an arm _across_ his thighs so he could practically spin Dwight around to face him. It made it impossible to stop his eyes from going wide, from looking anywhere else but at the assessing expression and what he thought might be the hint of a smile. And when he tried, his chin was propped upright again in a wordless order he followed.

The big man shimmied his fingers under the tight clasp of the exercise shirt, his nails skimming against skin and belly and more as he worked it upwards in little tugs. Dwight lifted his arms without being told, suddenly timid at the knowledge that his less-than-ideal middle was about to be exposed to such a formidable alpha. And it didn’t help him feel any less bashful when his shirt caught at his shoulders due to its tightness. He was glad his blushing face and nervous smile were hidden by the fabric as he pivoted to help remove it.

By the time they finished he knew his hair was in disarray and his glasses were missing, presumably stuck in the garment.

He tried correcting the former, smoothing it down repeatedly while keeping his blurred eyesight downcast. He only raised it in surprise when one of those sizeable hands extended out with the glasses it had retrieved.

Dwight couldn’t see the expression in front of him and suddenly it was so important for him to, so he snatched up the offering and put it back in place. He was apparently too slow, but he did get to see the way his bald head was tilted in consideration.

It got another subdued laugh out of the former delivery boy.

The dark eyes before him dropped to his mouth and then lifted to watch the way he smoothed his hair. Then they went to his exposed skin and Dwight fought not to cover himself. Fought even harder not to shrink in on himself when the touches from before resumed, no longer obstructed, but full contact so that they could finally feel one another’s heat. So he could _really_ feel those calluses scraping and catching on his nipples.

He arched awkwardly against it for how off-angled they were with their legs hanging off the edge of the bed. It was also what separated them from getting any closer. The alpha had to hunch forward to put his face back where he seemed to like it against the younger man’s neck. Dwight affixed his hands down into the sheets and against the mattress behind him so he could hold his position because he wanted to be savored and kissed and, at one point, lathered with a broad, insistent tongue.

Eventually it became too much to ask of his hands to stay still. Although it displaced their positioning a bit, Dwight straightened up because he, too, wanted to reach out. His nerves ended up failing him and his hands caught in the straps of the muscular man’s overalls. This drew his partner back, chin ducking so he could watch.

There was an air of expectancy about him, intwined as it was with the amusement that perhaps was inherent in his being. Or maybe Dwight just made him feel that way…and wasn’t that a weird thought?

Either way, he managed to disengage his tangled hands so he could undo the clasps. They fell away easily, the remaining fabric slipping right down the smoothness of the older man’s muscles to pool behind him and in his lap. Dwight only noticed it in his periphery, however, for how ludicrously rapt he was with the display.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen such an attractive body in person before. He was healthy—strong without the dehydration all the porn models seemed to favor. He was thick and enticing and dominant. And Dwight reached out to feel it.

The alpha allowed this, straightening up himself. He no longer cared for watching, though—or at least, not in the sense of what was happening to his body. Instead, his eyes remained on the smaller man’s face, even if his gaze was not returned for several moments.

Dwight couldn’t help that, though—he had to stare as he felt. Maybe it would better help him memorize the shape of the scars he was fondling. Maybe it was because, when he _did_ lift his eyes his fingers went, too, until he had two handfuls of massive shoulders within his palms.

Then there was nothing to do _but_ meet the eyes waiting for him.

And once he met them, he embarrassed himself further by leaning in. The alpha didn’t move, and Dwight easily recognized his surprise. That made the omega second guess himself, stopping him long enough that his partner moved to reassure him.

One giant arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him in so tight he had to hurriedly get his knees beneath himself. Then, with their chests pressed close, the trapper sealed his mouth over Dwight’s.

He’d been kissed before a few times in his life, brief and clumsy though most had been. In comparison, this one felt so fierce he was afraid his soul would escape with the breath he’d have to take once they separated. He wouldn’t say it was particularly skilled, but since he’d managed to remain a virgin until well into his twenties and this man had been living in a derelict mine, that made a lot of sense.

And yet, still, Dwight thought it was the best thing he’d ever felt. Even if they were sliding against each other and sometimes their movement was off. Even if he felt like he was mimicking a cat with cream when the other man’s tongue was mapping the inside of his mouth.

When the giant released him, Dwight found that his arms had wrapped around his partner’s neck. He only released them enough so he could sink back down onto his haunches and regain his breath. While he panted, while he sucked in the alpha’s scent, his eyes narrowed in on the wetness around his mouth—the wetness he knew to be of his own making.

And it enticed him to do it again.

The mine-dweller allowed him to initiate, to take over, to experiment and please them both. And all the while those hands roved his back. Well, until they went down to his ass to cup and squeeze him tight in obvious appreciation.

When Dwight withdrew, he found his cheek against his partner’s forehead. He rested there and rocked while his cheeks were kneaded and spread as much as they could be in the tight leggings that felt glued to his body for how hot his skin had become.

Ultimately, their bodies parted. The older man took control again, guiding his partner more fully onto the bed. When he began to push Dwight down, ostensibly to pull away the remaining articles of clothing separating them, the omega dug his fingers into his shoulders.

He wasn’t protesting, that was obvious with how apparent his desire was in his flushed skin and protruding erection, but he needed a moment. Just one moment for one question.

“I’m—”

“Dwight.”

He blinked owlishly up at the giant man. It took him a second to recall that his friends _had_ called his name before they’d run off.

He didn’t dwell on them, though, not wanting to dampen his mood, but instead focused on the fact that even before he’d smelled the omega, he’d decided his name was something he’d wanted to know.

“I want to know yours,” Dwight blurted.

His partner lowered him back onto the mattress and loomed over him. “You’ll call me Alpha.”

The submissive man felt the word echo through him, tightening his dick and causing his opening to twitch as if in preparation.

“I will,” he promised, mindlessly, “I will. Please, please tell me.”

His alpha regarded him for a moment and then bent in half so he could set his mouth and teeth to the office worker’s collarbone. Dwight wasn’t sure whether it was a threat or not because it felt too good to register in his mind as one. He ran his teeth across the bone, flicking his tongue here and there to taste the skin and sweat.

And then he tasted the younger man’s nipples, sucking them so sharply Dwight arched his back. He was held there so the actions could be repeated on the other nub, so he wound one arm around that solid neck to keep his balance. His free hand he caressed over his partner’s bald head almost tenderly.

“Please,” he heard himself beg again.

His alpha dropped him down onto the bed, not because he was displeased with the questioning but because he wanted to lick lower and lower until he was obstructed, as if to remind what they both desired the most at that moment.

Even so, as he took his mouth away, he murmured a name into Dwight’s skin.

The omega gave an absurd little laugh towards the ceiling and obediently lifted his hips when guided to do so.

_Evan_ stripped him in one go; shoes, leggings, and underwear in what felt like a single motion though that was impossible. It left Dwight almost completely bare save for the watch around his wrist and the socks on his feet. It made him feel very unsexy, but his partner didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Not with the way he kneeled so he could more easily slide his hands up and down his thighs. Not with the way he was spreading them. Not with the way he teased his fingers over the sensitive skin of Dwight’s cock before wrapping it up warm and tight and _pumping_.

The younger man had been able to hear his panting and gasping and moaning before, but now he practically _mewled_ louder than all of it. He snapped his head up to see the big hand working him, his dick looking so small in his grip.

Dwight blushed to feel the precum gush out of him for how much he enjoyed the sight.

His alpha seemed intrigued by it, enough to lower his head down and taste. And there was another first—to be in someone’s mouth. To feel a tongue gliding over and around him. To be sucked and swallowed so effortlessly because of their disparate sizes.

He moaned and tried not to buck up, his desire and want and hot pleasure making him feel as though he were melting from the inside. He spread his legs wantonly and clung to the back of the older man’s head. The alpha did not shrug him off but increased his tempo to please his omega even more. To make him as wet at his opening as he felt within that hot mouth.

He tested this with a finger, slipping it behind Dwight’s balls and back to feel how much slickness had accrued there. The omega sucked in a breath as he felt it slide right over his opening and back without any resistance. Then his alpha added the second, probing his rim but not penetrating him to the smaller man’s disappointment.

Not yet at least.

_Evan_ gave another suck and then pulled off him, leaving his saliva-coated dick to plop against his stomach.

And then he was promptly flipping the omega over and urging him to rise onto his hands and knees. It was a hard task with his mind reeling and body feeling boneless. He was trembling so hard he couldn’t quite lock his elbows into place, so he kept his arms folded and his chest pressed to the mattress, as lifted into the air.

He heard the other man’s overalls hitting the floor, he heard the thud of boots as they and the way they smacked the desk behind them as they were kicked away. Because of that he expected to be mounted right away, so fast and hard that he’d pass out from the sudden claiming.

But his alpha surprised him when he once again dropped to his knees so he could lick the twitching, leaking opening exposed to him.

He clearly enjoyed the taste for how wide he opened his mouth to sweep his tongue up and down, as if lapping up every wayward bit of slick. When the slippery muscle tested the give of his pucker, his tried desperately to reach back and touch his partner’s head, to keep the pressure and pleasure teasing him for what was about to come. Because of their height difference he couldn’t quite manage it, instead he latched onto once massive forearm and dug in his nails.

“Please, Alpha, please.”

_Evan_ knew for what he was begging better than he did. Or maybe he wanted to keep tasting his omega’s flavor. Either way, he continued, lapping and flicking and pushing until the evidence of Dwight’s enjoyment was staining the sheets beneath his hips.

He withdrew just as he did before—sudden and fast—so he could flip the smaller man over yet again. He made to lift him, too, to maneuver him fully onto the bed so he could join, but Dwight sat up to stop him. His alpha gave him a disgruntled look, but that the shorter man felt comfortable enough to smile at it as he scooted to the edge of the mattress.

Dwight knew that with how wet he was below, with how willing he was, with how ready his body was, he could probably take the other man inside him. But, after catching a glimpse of his cock and seeing how it was _very_ proportionate to the rest of his body, the delivery boy remembered back to his health class days and figured it would be best to make them _both_ as lubricated as possible. He felt hot but knew that his heat was not due for some time. And when it came, he knew he’d want his alpha to be able to take him fast and hard and in rapid succession.

So, he wanted to play it as safe as he could. The problem was, he’d never sucked a dick before, and he’d certainly never expected his first to be as big as it was.

He did his best, wanting to impress his partner as much as he wanted to make him feel good. At first, his nerves only allowed him to lick at the head, though he tried to mimic how his lover’s tongue had felt against him earlier. He’d expected the precum to taste overly bitter, but perhaps he didn’t mind it so much because of the primitive, unfounded closeness he already felt to this alpha.

He suckled at the head then, hyper aware of his teeth. When a hand settled over his hair he figured he must have been doing it right, so he tried to relax his jaw to take in more. Embarrassingly, he didn’t get far, but the weight on his crown held him where we was so he made up for the inches he couldn’t cover with his palm. Naturally, he started drooling and he used his hand’s motion to spread it down the entire length.

At one point, he followed the motion of his hand too closely, and couldn’t stop the gag that racked through him when the back of his throat was prodded.

His alpha immediately withdrew, tugging a bit at the dark hair in his grasp as he did so. Dwight looked up at him, mouth wet and swollen, eyes watering a bit. There was nothing _Evan_ could do about the latter, but he wiped what he could away from the former. Then he was lifting the smaller man by his underarms to redirect him back onto the bed, once again poised on his hands and knees.

Dwight could hold himself up better now, attributing the shake in his arms to excited anticipation.

He had to wait longer than he expected, though he did not glance back over his shoulder. He remained as he was, obedient and patient, even as he listened to the other man rummage around once again in the bag that he’d brought. There was the sound of a cap popping, of a slick hand rubbing over a dick, and then there was a cool, hard, slippery pressure at his entrance.

His own natural lubricant was beading down the inside of his thighs by now, betraying his need and want, but the fact that he hadn’t been the only one to think about preparation wasn’t lost on his lust-addled mind.

Because it meant that _his_ alpha had decided from the moment that he’d smelled Dwight that he was going to have him.

And while other alphas may have done it without a care for his comfort—this one prioritized it.

_Because he wants to have me again?_

Dwight wondered how his blood could manage to flood his face even darker, especially when his body felt as molten as it did. Especially when he was harder than he’d ever been in his life.

He bit his lip, stalwart to put his thoughts aside to consider later, because all he wanted to focus on was the way the pressure at his opening was increasing.

It wasn’t a foreign feeling for Dwight. He’d spent several heats alone with his hands and toys. While the pressure was the same, the warmth of the dick pushing into him was different. The give of it. The pulse he could feel through it. The breath he could hear behind him and the feel of it rolling up his spine.

His alpha went slow, patient with the loosening of the younger man’s opening. Although it was the biggest girth Dwight had ever taken, it did not feel as though he were splitting in two as reported by some of the trashier things he’d read. It stretched him wide, but his insides welcomed it. _Wanted_ it.

It both felt as though it took forever and no time at all before the big body behind him was able to start rocking, giving them both time to adjust. Giving him time to mold around it, to prepare for the sweet slide of _Evan_ into him completely.

Dwight groaned and bowed his head, pushing back although there was nowhere for him to go, not with how his ass was already pressed up against his lover’s hips. He could feel his inner muscles clamping down, a rhythmic tightening that he subconsciously rolled his hips to subdue. The older man liked the feeling, and perhaps the sight of his skin jiggling, because his giant fingers coiled around the omega’s hips and forced him to repeat it again and again.

The former delivery boy could hear himself moaning, could hear the little hitches in his breath and how carnal his voice. And it only became more so, only became louder and more erratic when his alpha ceased his undulations so that he could begin thrusting into the wet vice around him.

He began that slowly, too, and Dwight knew it was completely for his benefit. He knew the power an alpha had and he knew even better that _this_ alpha eclipsed that. He could take hold and ram him into incoherency if he cared only for his completion. But he didn’t. And the submissive man felt all the more pleasure for it.

Felt all the more wanted.

The sound of him dragging in and out of Dwight was filthy, slick sucking and moist pushing. At every full thrust their skin tapped together, and when the lightning blitzing through him caused the omega to rock back quicker, causing their skin to smack all the louder while chasing the high, he was rewarded in turn. _Evan_ ’s hands slipped up his sides, squeezing the plush skin there as he sped up his pace.

The pleasure was as immediate as his delight in being so obviously enjoyed. He tried to keep up with it, to catch his breath, to make less pathetic sounds, but it all seemed to be a flurry of motion and sensuality and raw hunger. He felt as though he was losing all control, which made no sense when he hadn’t had a modicum of it in the first place. He felt like the wanton need whiting out his mind was expanding, causing him to run on instinct and depravity.

Besides the steady pace set at his ass, he could feel his shoulders beginning to burn. He was almost angry at them—at anything that could distract him even a little from being devoured. He went down onto his elbows and then lower, trying to keep his bottom half high enough for his partner’s access.

His alpha pummeled into him a little longer in that position before finding it unsatisfactory. On one thrust he bottomed out so that he could put his palms against Dwight’s back and follow its length to his shoulders. Gripping there, he guided the failed explorer back and back until he was balanced on his knees, his spine arched, and ass protruded out.

He fucked the omega this way, the best part of it being those huge arms surrounding him, taking on the burden of his weight with their strength. He clung to them, clumsily patting and petting the skin so he could feel the muscles work beneath. His head he flung back, smacking it onto a giant shoulder.

Because of their height difference his hair was grazing his lover’s jaw, and Dwight reached up to try to draw him down closer. The alpha hunched a bit, if only to scent at the sweat dripping from the smaller man’s temples, if only to catch some of it on his lips and tongue.

Dwight tried to turn his head up, to get his mouth within range, but found it disappointingly impossible.

He gave an unsatisfied huff at that and found himself immediately bereft and empty in response. As before, as he suspected he always would be, he was manhandled into a new position. This time his body no longer had to hold itself up. This time his alpha spread him out on his back over the mattress and clambered after him. It groaned under his weight, and so too did Dwight.

The omega’s hips were lifted, and he bent himself in half to make it easier, hooking his hands behind his knees to aid his lover. The bigger man touched over them, perhaps in appreciation, and petted down across the back of his thighs and ass even as he reclaimed the latter. Dwight stared up at him, clinging to his own legs as the power of the thrusts sent through him pushed him up the sheets again and again. They were so bodied and deep that, in conjunction with the sheen of sweat over him, they were dislodging his glasses back and forth on the bridge of his nose.

At one point he had to stop and hold them because he wanted to see the way his alpha was working into him. He wanted to see his abdomen and hip muscles flex. He wanted to _see_ where they were connected. Where the thick cock was disappearing inside of him to hit his deepest spots, to drag over his clenching walls, to stretch him wide and keep him that way.

And every drive sent that blissful lightning through him, sparking outwards from his hips and tightening every last one of his muscles and overriding every last one of his nerves.

On his back it felt like his cries came from his stomach, like they were being punched out of him with each jerk. His alpha seemed to enjoy that because every now and then he would experiment. Sometimes he would slow them, sometimes he would jab in short and fast, sometimes he would bury himself and grind—all to hear the unique sounds he could wring out of his little lover.

“Ahhh,” Dwight breathed on a particularly long grind that teased so beautifully against his prostate. “Alpha, please.”

He reached out, fondling over the flexing abs in front of him, openly admiring them before he swooped each hand to a side. He curled his fingers in there, tugging to make his lover understand. The other man pushed him back down into the mattress to satisfy his omega’s begging. Firmly, he directed Dwight’s legs around his waist so that he could hunch over him. So that he could provide the skin and muscle and warmth that his young mate wanted to explore.

And Dwight did, his hands roaming in delight. His mind did much the same, overloaded by pleasure and the feel and sight of such a powerful, non-traditionally handsome alpha giving it to him. Wanting to give it to him.

He squeezed his thighs tight and writhed under that pummeling, under the heavy weight cocooning him.

“ _Evan_ ,” he husked, overwrought and feeling as though his soul were vibrating within him. “I’m—please, please!”

He knew he was supposed to call him formally, knew that he wanted that submission, and he prayed he wouldn’t be denied because of it. Not when he was so built up he thought his heart might explode along with his lower body when he finally crested.

But his alpha didn’t deny him.

He hefted the smaller body up, all the way until he was splayed across that huge lap. Then, with his arms holding Dwight tight, with his mouth pressing to his cheek and jaw and then fastening to his neck, with his teeth taking hold, he hammered upwards. His thighs and hips were as a piston, jerking so fast that the failed explorer could only hold on, could only whimper out his torment as the pleasure overrode him into orgasm.

If he had the strength, he would have screamed with it for how strong it was. It wrecked him as none ever had before. He arched against his alpha as much as he could, digging in his fingers as if only he could save Dwight from passing out. Or from his heart stopping, for how truly depleted he felt once the last of his spend spurted out between them.

And somehow, when those teeth pierced him—marked him, claimed him—the pleasure became proacted, enough that he thought he’d gone crazy for how slow time felt as they undulated, entwined with one another.

_Evan_ released his bite, head bowed so he could press his forehead against Dwight’s cheek as he grunted out his own shaking orgasm. It slowed his thrusts, staggering him enough for two, three, four deep lunges so that he could empty himself. So that his claim went deeper than a bite ever could.

His cum was as hot as the rest of him, and Dwight lowered his pitifully wet face to kiss along the parts of the shoulder he could, enjoying every moment of his breeding. Perhaps he should have been worried about the implications of it, but it felt too good to be filled. It felt _so_ good he could feel his lower walls twitching and pulling, as if demanding more.

It felt so right he marveled that he’d ever feared it.

He _did_ feel stupid for the spit and tears left in the wake of his kissing, though, so he gingerly tried to wipe it away.

There was a puff against his temple and Dwight thought that perhaps it was humorful. He wiped his face next, though since his palms were already slick with sweat and spit it didn’t do much.

_Evan_ drew his hands up the younger man’s back, cradling him as he eased them backwards onto the bed. His length slipped out in the meantime, making Dwight feel slippery and drenched and debauched. He rolled off to the side of that massive torso but managed to stay against it with one of those muscled arms propping him up. His alpha’s free, callused hand held one of his wrists, cupping it to his chest. Dwight was content to keep it there, just like the leg he threw over one of his lover’s thighs.

They must’ve looked a sight, with the position making him look tiny and angling his hips so that the combination of slick and lubrication and semen began to seep out of him. He made no move to clean it, though, drained as he was.

He made no move to take advantage of the fatigue settling over their bodies. He gave no thought to the opportunity to escape. He gave no thought to anything but how right he felt held in place against his alpha.

When he woke it was to one of the blankets being tucked around his body. Without opening his eyes, he lifted his arms obediently for how instantaneous he recognized the smell of his mate. When his glasses, which must have fallen off in his sleep, were perched back onto his face, he opened at least one to see his alpha. He was dressed once again, though fortunately his mask was turned _backwards_ on his head.

Dwight hadn’t been redressed, though he could tell that he’d been cleaned while he slept.

The office worker watched as the big man turned to gather all his discarded clothes and food to dump into the supply sack. Then he turned to unbar the door once more, leaving it wide open so that after he took hold of both the bag and the omega, he could walk right through it.

The younger man leant his head against him, feeling a little like a bridal burrito for his dress and how he was being held. Still, he did not question his lover until he recognized that they were retracing their steps all the way back towards the glowing light he’d spied all those hours ago.

Dwight wasn’t sure _why_ they were headed out that way, nor was he going to complain. His alpha had indicated that he didn’t _actually_ live in the mines. The insinuation had been that he just patrolled them. So when, as he’d hoped, they stepped outside to be partially blinded by the sun peeking through the trees, the omega knew where he was being taken.

Their exit was not where he and his friends had entered. He couldn’t even guess at where they were, except that it was a heavily forested area. He didn’t imagine it was too far off from the other entrance, but he truthfully had no reason to go back there. Not that he _could_ while barefoot anyway.

And not that he thought his mate would turn him free so suddenly. Not that he wanted him to.

Between some of the trees he could see what looked like a clearing. The building in between it was very obscured, but he recognized it to be a house.

“Alpha.” He peeked up at him and then once again to the clearing. “You live there, don’t you?”

For a moment he thought he might get an answer, but he wasn’t too disappointed when that veiled amusement passed over his lover’s features, brief though it was. Nor when he was hefted all the closer as they stepped out into the woods.


End file.
